


Thirty seven

by bulletsandroses



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Post-War, Slow Burn, dramione - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-18
Updated: 2016-12-19
Packaged: 2018-09-09 14:42:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,661
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8894617
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bulletsandroses/pseuds/bulletsandroses
Summary: Draco and Hermione have seen their world crash and now they need to rebuild it. Together they might fix each other's hearts, but how can you love someone when you've been to Hell and back? When you know how easy it is to kill? They will deny they're hurt, and they will deny they need help.Follow their journey into realizing their feelings, healing their wounds and maybe finding out what has drawn them to each other.





	1. War zone

**Author's Note:**

> I just wanted to express Hermione's discomfort with everyone and Draco's helpless soul. First dramione ever, even though I've always always always loved this couple and I am sad it's not canon.  
> Nope, I don't own these characters, the amazing JK Rowling does.
> 
> Hope you like this first chapter! Please please please comment :) Chapter two will be posted by the end of the week!
> 
> Also, first time on AO3 so I don't really know how this all works.

Draco felt his chest tighten as he looked at that stupid, so fucking stupid Granger from the other side of the Great Hall. He looked at her carefully, without even wanting to, he paid attention to the way she hugged the Weasel and the way she cried softly on his shoulder. The word had been about to crash about two hours ago and, even though Potter had been victorious, Draco couldn’t even think about it. Not when Granger had been so stupid. He wanted to go there and scream at her, maybe even pointing his own wand at her. Hell, she was supposed to be the smart one in there, Draco thought.

But, still, she had dared to face so many Death Eaters and she had even entered the Chamber with that useless Weasley boy. She had risked her life so many times that day and she had been so close to dying that Draco was still surprised she had got lucky. Maybe being the Chosen One’s best friend had helped to it or maybe it was just her who had managed to be successful in every mad plan that weird and annoying trio had organised. However, her being alive and the Dark Lord being defeated was a fact. Draco couldn’t think of a reason not to be happy at that moment, but he felt helpless inside.

And then he remembered the way his Slytherin mates had looked at him when he had entered the Great Hall by himself, having left his mother outside, as if he were a traitor because of having fought for both sides. He thought about his father, the way Draco had yelled at him for not being brave enough to do the right thing for once, the way he had told him he felt ashamed to be his son and the way he had spitted that he was a coward.

And then Lucius was gone, and his dear mother was crying on his shoulder. And Draco had held her until Andromeda had come, accomplishing something that had seemed to be impossible: Forgiveness to her sister. But still, Draco felt helpless. And empty.

No matter how McGonagall had sworn to protect him and his mother, who had been crucial to Potter’s victory. No matter how Weasley father had told him solemnly that his choice not to take Voldemort’s side at the end had been the good one, and that his actions wouldn’t be forgotten at the trial. His mother had kept on crying and he had maintained that empty look on his face. Draco was going to trial. He was going to be tried. And he wasn’t sure about the outcome. It didn’t matter anymore, he didn’t care anymore.

He just thought about how stupid Granger had been and how happy she was at the moment. He thought about how much he’d like to approach to her and then he remembered her crying in agony at his living room’s floor and he stopped himself from doing that madness. How on Earth had she been so stupid to risk her life in so many different ways and still, be proud of it? But she was Granger; he reminded himself, nodding as he helped a first year with his bandages. She was that incredibly talented witch who was also a Griffindor, Merlin knows why. She was brave, and pure, and she was also so stupid.

Hogwarts was in ruins and there was so much to do. Granger had been the first one to offer to come back next year and even spend her summer there trying to fix anything but Draco wasn’t sure about how on Earth she was planning to fix all the broken hearts that that war had left behind. Hers, to begin with.

“Malfoy” said a voice in a neutral tone, waking him up from his thoughts. Draco rolled his eyes when he saw who he had in front of him.

“Well, if it isn’t Potter, the boy who lived, the boy who won” he replied, smirking. Potter frowned and sit next to him. He looked terrible: his scar on the forehead wasn’t going to be the only one he was going to have for the rest of his life. Draco didn’t look much better himself, he knew it. But he didn’t care, either. He was as destroyed inside as he looked.

“I’ve talked to your mother. I will defend you on the trial…” Potter began, but Draco cut him off.

“Don’t bother, Potter” he murmured. Potter shook his head. “Have you heard me? Have you heard McGonagall? You have chances to win the trial. You are part of the good ones, now. You should be thinking about your defense right now” Potter tried to explain, but Draco just laughed.

“Are you deaf, Potter? I don’t want a defense. I don’t deserve to win the trial. I just hope my sentence is long and I die in there”. And he really believed it.

Potter got up and offered his hand.

“I’m going to do it anyway” he said, and Draco sighed. He was a stubborn one, Potter. But he didn’t complain, either. He just kept sitting there, looking around and wondering if all the chaos had been worth something.

Next year was going to be a difficult one at Hogwarts. He just tried not to think about all the Slytherin boys who would be clearly ashamed of having been sorted in that house. And he also tried not to think about Granger, not to look at her while she was repairing the windows of the Great Hall, along with old Sluggy. She looked terribly tired, as if she had been on the run for several months.

She had, indeed.

She had also suffered a Crucciatus curse for hours and she had received terrible scars from his aunt. Draco shook his head. She had suffered, as well as him. Yet, he wondered why he was thinking about her, how he hadn’t stopped thinking about her since that night at Malfoy Manor.

She then surprised him looking at her and he saw in her eyes so many emotions, as if she was trying not to cry. And he felt emptier inside. She then moved a foot towards him and he didn’t think it twice. He just got up and left that unbearable place.

* * *

 

“Hermione, you can’t change this” Harry started, but Hermione shook her head furiously. They were all sitting at Griffindor’s common room. Herself, Harry and Ron, who had placed his hand protectively over her knee. She tried to calm herself down.

“It’s not fair! It is not fair, you know it.” she whined.

“’Mione, there’s nothing fair about war. There is nothing fair about anything that has happened”. Harry was right.

She hadn’t cried yet.

Ron hadn’t been able to keep it together any longer, and he had just screamed and yelled until she had shut him up with a kiss. He was a wreck, trembling against her. She couldn’t think of a way of calming him, not after seeing Fred’s corpse, not after seeing all those dead people, all those familiar faces and all that suffering that was going to come, that was already happening.

“They don’t get to have that” Hermione whispered. Harry shook his head. He was the hero of the story, books were going to be written about him, but he just looked so tired. So, so tired. So did she, but she knew she could take it. She was just on a quick break, she reminded herself. As soon as she was done with Harry’s wounds (they had agreed not to take him to the nursery, not when there was so much terror and pain in there, real, physical pain to be taken care of) , Hermione was going back to the corridors.

“Hermione, it’s a way to know their stories, their reasons. They are going to be tried, there’s no way they are getting out of going to Azkaban”. Harry looked like the voice of the reason. That wasn’t his part to play. It was hers. She was the only one who had the right to say reasonable stuff. “Maybe now we get to avoid another rise. Now that we get to know what these people think, what were their reasons…” Harry continued with all those well-structured arguments against her idea. But she knew she was right.

“They don’t deserve it” Ron interrupted. “They don’t deserve to explain themselves”. He said it in a low tone, almost husky, and Hermione had shivered. Buts she agreed. She didn’t feel bad about it.

“Ron, what if there’s some of them who actually feel responsible? They might feel sorry” Harry continued.

“It’s funny, you know, that it’s you who says it. May I remember that they killed your parents? Sirius? Lupin, Tonks? Moody? My fucking brother? Being sorry doesn't change it” Ron spitted, looking straight at him.

Hermione watched them in silence as they challenged each other, about to rip each other’s hearts out.

“He is right” Hermione whispered. Both of them looked at her and she just swallowed.

“Thanks, ´Mione” Harry said, obviously surprised, but Hermione smiled at that and looked at both of their best friends, sitting across from each other and breathing heavily.

“I didn’t said it to you, Harry” she replied, looking at Ron in the eye, the way he was even more surprised than Harry to have her support.

“They deserve to rot themselves in a cell. Not even that. They deserve to die, not with an Avada. They deserve to die in a painful, slow death. They deserve everything bad that happens in this world, but us giving them the chance to escape… it basically explains why we are the good ones” she said, dry.

Hermione got up and straightened her already broken and filthy top. Ron came closer to her and she let him hug her, she let his warmth embrace her and she tried to feel safe, to feel anything, but she didn’t. And she was scared to death. But she didn’t cry. She hadn’t cried yet.

“Maybe I’m tired of being the good one, you know” she whispered against Ron’s shoulder, as he caressed her hair. “Perhaps everything bad that’s happened to us is a reminder of why we shouldn’t be the good ones” she continued, closing her eyes. She felt Harry’s hand on her back and she breathed again, having them both next to her. They didn’t even know how tired she was, how much she loved them and how much she hated herself for loving so fiercely.

“There’s more” Harry murmured. Hermione lifted her head to him and bit her bottom lip.

“Now you’re going to tell us we are invited to the trials” Ron guessed. “Save yourself the speech. If I get near any of them I will cut their arm off” he said, bitterly.

“I wouldn’t ask you…”Harry began. But Hermione knew what was coming. She knew he was about to say something incredibly stupid and brave and good, and she didn’t want to hear it.

“Spit it out, already” she cut him off.

“It’s Malfoy. He is going to be tried, so is his mum. And I think you should be there. I am. I’m defending him” he said, at last.

She got quiet. She couldn’t move. She had completely forgotten about Malfoy. He was a Death Eater, too. He was going to be tried. And Harry was trying to help him. She felt Ron’s respiration fasten and she took his hand with strength.

“He has the Mark. He’s equal to any of them. Nothing changes” he said.

“Everything changes. If you don’t remember, it was his mum who saved me. If not for her, I would be dead. And Voldemort would have won”. Hermione felt a shiver down her spine when she listened that name. Ron swore under his breath. 

“He was there when ´Mione was tortured. He was there and did nothing.”  _He looked at me with pain in his eyes, apologizing,_ Hermione wanted to say.

“He switched sides after all; he did it not because he thought they were going to lose but because he believed in our cause”.  _He did it because he had tried to protect me, but no one noticed, just me._

“That family doesn’t deserve our pity…”

“Just stop” Hermione whispered. “Stop talking. Don’t talk about Malfoy, don’t talk about anything. I don't want to talk about any of them."

She couldn’t bear it. Malfoy was going to be charged, she was sure. No one, apart from Harry, was going to defend him. But she knew Harry was right. She just didn’t want to accept it. She knew Malfoy had saved her life, last night, when a curse who was meant to disarm her hit his chest and she just stood there, watching him groan in pain as she took Ron’s hand, who hadn’t even noticed it, and ran away to kill that snake. Hermione didn’t think Malfoy remembered at all. But she knew it. She knew it had happened and she knew she owed him. But she also knew he deserved to be tried and he deserve to explain himself. And he deserved to be free. But that didn’t matter anymore. Because the war was over and everyone that Hermione cared about was safe and sound. Dead or alive.

She hadn't cried yet.


	2. How far I'll go

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I also wish we didn’t get to be tried. I don’t want to be saved”. She looked up at him and her heart shrank. Malfoy looked so small, so broken and so sorry. Hermione had been avoiding that kind of people who felt too much for the last week. She just had to get away from there.  
> “You deserve the chance” she whispered, instead.

When Hermione woke up in the feeling of the night, it still felt like all her bones had been broken at the same time. She wondered whether that painful feeling would disappear, or maybe it was the aftermath of that night at Malfoy Manor, the consequences of all those months starving to death, always on the run, always exhausted. She cringed at the memory and found herself breathing heavily. She wasn’t able to cope with all the stress.

Hermione got up carefully, not wanting to wake any of her friends up. All of the former members of the DA had agreed on sleeping at the Common room, at least until all their parents would come back to pick them up. She realized her parents wouldn’t be able to take her home, basically because they didn’t know she existed. She couldn’t look around without noticing all of them had lost someone important during the war.

Hermione took one blanket and her purse, and she walked away. She needed to free her mind and that amount of people weren’t helping, so she went to the only place she felt she could be useful at: the hospital wing. There were still so many people in severe conditions, even days after the Battle, that she felt sick. St. Mungos hadn’t predicted that amount of injuries, so they had had to keep most of the wounded here, at Hogwarts.

One thing they all could agree on, Hogwarts didn’t feel like home anymore. It felt like death. Like a cemetery. Hermione didn’t hesitate and asked Madam Pomfrey what to do.

“You shouldn’t be here, darling” the nurse whispered, taking her hand. Hermione half smiled. She shouldn’t be anywhere, actually. She should be dead.

“I couldn’t sleep. It’s been days. And, still, I can’t sleep” she explained, not meeting Madam Pomfrey’s eyes. It had been 5 days. 5 days doing nothing but repair the walls of the school and the wounds of those hurt in battle. But there was so much to do, so much work to keep her mind busy.

“Maybe I could give you some sleeping potions…”the nurse suggested, but Hermione shook her head. She had tried. She had tried everything. Firewhisky had helped the most, to be honest.

“Please, let me help. I need to do something” she asked. Madam Pomfrey didn’t say anything, but led her between the beds and the people and pointed at those who still hadn’t had theire wounds closed and stitched. When explained how to perform the spells, she smiled. Madam Pomfrey couldn’t understand the amount of times she had had to use those healing spells over the last years. She wasn’t the best at it, and Hermione personally thought that muggle stitches worked better and didn’t leave such scars. It was more laborious, but she didn’t really have anything else to do.

So she began to work on the patients, carefully choosing those who were half asleep or didn’t know who she was. She just didn’t want to talk to anybody.

And time passed, and Hermione lost count of how many scars she had healed. She didn’t think about anything, she just stitched and stitched. Her hands hurt and she felt tired, but she had to keep going. She had to escape from the night and all those hateful dreams that followed her whenever she tried to fall asleep. The sun rose, all nurses left for a rest and she kept stitching, changing beds, giving pain remedies, not talking to anyone. Hours later, she had sore fingers and her back hurted like hell, but she didn’t know if it was because of the _Cruciatus_ or the long hours she had spent in the same position. She hadn’t opened her mouth, she hadn’t said a word and she felt like the world was a much quiet place, a peaceful one. Hermione wondered how it would feel if she just didn’t speak for the rest of her life. There wasn’t much to say, to be honest with herself.

Hermione checked her last patient and realized it had been hours since her last meal. She got up and walked towards the door of the hospital wing, when she heard Madam’s voice behind the door and stopped. Hermione found herself listening behind the door to whatever conversation Pomfrey was having.

“She’s been up all night and all day. Maybe 18 hours. She can’t stay like this. She needs help” she heard the nurse whisper.

“We’ve tried everything, but Merlin knows how stubborn she is” another voice pointed out. _Harry._

“She tries to rebuild everything all by herself” a third voice agreed. _Ronald._

“We are all coping with our demons in or own way” Ron said, whispering. “She is at least doing something for the greater good”. Hermione then swore in her mind. They were talking about her, obviously. They happened to enjoy talking about her and her emotions.

“Ron, she’s killing herself. She doesn’t sleep. She doesn’t talk about anything that’s happened. She just avoids the freaking conversation”

“Maybe we should all do the same! Pretend nothing happened…”

“Weasley!”

“It’s true! I don’t know, I trust her. I know she’ll do the right thing. She’s a freaking _sister_ to me”.

“Sister? I thought…”

“You thought wrong. I guess it was the adrenaline. I still love her to death, though. Why are we talking about this?”

“Don’t pretend you aren’t hurt she didn’t want anything with you. You both have been trying to avoid your feelings for years…”

“And what? We all need each other in many different ways right now. Maybe in the future…”

“Boys, I don’t think this is the moment” Madam Pomfrey interrupted. Hermione frowned. There were children who had just become orphans, people in that room fighting for their lives, parents whose kids had disappeared or died and Death Eaters who were on the run. But they were talking about _her_ and her relationship with both of the boys. Oh, she felt furious.

“You know she hasn’t cried yet. You’ve cried, I’ve cried. Everyone has” Harry murmured.

“She might not need to cry. She’s freaking strong, you know…”

“I CARE ABOUT HER, RON! I won’t sit around when my best friend is about to have a panic attack whenever we mention what we’ve been through. What if she is in shock?”

“And I care about her just as much as you do, but whenever we try to talk to her she runs off. She doesn’t even stay at night. Maybe it’s best if we leave her.”

Hermione shook her head. For once, Ron was right. Merlin, how much she loved that giant pain. But, again, she felt so freaking helpless, with her friends worrying about her and herself not being able to tell them what was wrong. She opened the door of the hospital wing and went out; finding herself in front of both boys, one beside the other, looking at her with so much worry in their eyes Hermione couldn’t take it. Ginny was there, as well as Neville. And as the little one of the Weasley opened her arms to welcome her, Hermione stepped back and shook her head. No one could understand that she just wanted to fix the destruction that had

Without even wanting it, she found herself in the Astronomy Tower. She took a packet of cigarettes from her purse. It was her father’s. Her heart ached remembering her parents, who she hadn’t been able to find yet. It wasn’t necessary at the moment, she reminded herself. She had time to cure everyone and then she could be able to have her family back. Hermione hesitated, but she found out she didn’t really care, so she just lit one cigarette up and breathed the smell that calmed all her body down. Maybe this muggle habit she’d been trying to avoid for long summers was the only way to escape from her problems, just until the cigarette burned itself to ashes in her mouth.

She hadn’t cried yet, she knew something was wrong with her and she knew not facing her feelings was going to be a big problem. But she wasn’t strong enough to cope with the stress, the pain, the sadness that being alive brought.

“I know you’re there” she whispered, turning around from her place, sitting down on her knees, back on the window. Hermione had felt that presence since she had arrived to her hidden place. She just didn’t care who was there. At least, she thought she didn’t mind, not until she recognized his face and her heart fell to her feet.

“Malfoy” she whispered. She hadn’t seen him since the morning after the battle, at the Great Hall, and she wasn’t going to lie, he looked like crap. His eyes looked bigger than ever, no light in them, surrounded by dark cyrcles. He wasn’t thin at all, but he looked scrawny and tired, and his jaw looked sharpest than ever.

 But it was his way of moving that shocked her. As if he was trying not to scare her, moving into the light slowly. The dark robes she was used to see him into had disappeared. He was just wearing trainers, an old sweater and jeans. Hermione put the blanket over her shoulders and opened the purse, looking for another cigarette.

“I should leave” Malfoy said, his voice flat. Hermione looked at him, frowning, while she held the cigarette between her lips and lit it with the muggle lighter.

“You should” she agreed. But he didn’t move, and Hermione found herself wondering why he was still there, why he hadn’t left her alone. He just looked at her as she smoke and she thought he would probably be thinking the same about her. She looked terrible, her hair frizzy and tangled, her face pale and scratched and her soul broken.

But Malfoy hadn’t left and she felt uncomfortable in his presence.

“You’re being tried” Hermione commented, exhaling the smoke. He just blinked and nodded.

“I am”

“You shouldn’t be tried” she said, not being able to hold back and shut up. He looked at her, without understanding. “Every Death Eater should just get the kiss and be locked in forever”. Malfoy sat next to her and Hermione hugged her knees, after throwing the holder away.

“Do you really think so?” he asked, his tone low, as he approached her. Hermione nodded, half smiling.

“I do”

“Then, thankfully the Ministry will listen to the Brightest Witch’s wish and end my torment” he added, bitterly. Hermione got up and took her purse, not looking away from him.

“You are not one of them” she whispered. Malfoy rolled his eyes and Hermione guessed he had already heard those words several times.

“Cut the crap, Granger. Do you need to see the Mark?”

“Whatever. I have better places to be”. She didn’t insist. _You might be worse than them, since you took the mark because you were scared and not because you believed in him._

“Working your ass off until you faint? I’ve seen you, Granger; I know it hurts like hell when you move. You should tell McGonagall” he said, and Hermione felt that now familiar rage in her chest. How dare he? He had no right to observe her; he had no right to even talk to her. Not when he was about to be tried and she wasn’t going to be there. He shouldn’t be there, making her furious. He shouldn’t be there, noticing those things no one had.

“Shut up”

“I’m not stupid, Granger. I have seen your symptoms”. _Just let me be, Malfoy, stop pretending to care. Work on your trial and be free._

“What do you care?” she snapped. “Why do you suddenly pay so much attention to what I do? Just…” She breathed and got up. “Just take care of your own shit, Malfoy. You have enough to deal with”. She walked past him and was about to go down the stairs when she heard his voice again.

“I also wish we didn’t get to be tried. I don’t want to be saved”. She looked up at him and her heart shrank. Malfoy looked so small, so broken and so sorry. Hermione had been avoiding that kind of people who felt too much for the last week. She just had to get away from there.

“You deserve the chance” she whispered, instead. “I don’t think you do, but they do and they won’t let you rot in hell”. Malfoy laughed.

“So what happened to Granger, defender of the lost causes?”

“Maybe you are not the cause I want to fight for” Hermione replied. She didn’t know why she was talking to him that way, why she wasn’t about to cry and why she didn’t feel anything inside. But Malfoy just smiled.

“I wouldn’t be the cause I would choose to fight for, either” he agreed, and Hermione relaxed her shoulders. Malfoy looked outside the giant windows and sighed. “Maybe we are all doomed, all of us who fought.” He said, after a minute. Hermione thought about it. He was right. She also deserved to be tried, for lying, killing. For having hope and not losing it even though everyone screamed at her to let go. It might have been her mistake.

“I’m not sorry of my choices” she just said.

“I am”

“Then fix them. Try to get as many supporters as you can before the trial.”

“You just said…” he started.

“I know what I said. I don’t think you should get to explain yourself. I don’t know why you did all those horrible things and I certainly don’t want to know your real reasons because they might be worse than those I imagined” Hermione interrupted him. “That’s why you need to avoid Azkaban. So that people will trust you again and will forgive you” she whispered.

“Will you forgive me?” His question confused her.

“What does it matter? I will be gone after this place is repaired”. Malfoy smirked.

“We both know you won’t”

“If you know me so well, you’ll know my only question here is why you saved me, that night” she then snapped. She had had enough of philosophy, of forgiveness and all that crap.

“I don’t know. Will you forgive me?” he repeated, frowning. She shrugged and turned her back on him.

“I don’t know. Do you feel sorry of saving me?”

“No. Do you feel sorry of killing the man who attacked me right after I took the curse?”

“No”. And with that said, she left.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is chapter 2! Sooner than I expected :)
> 
> I just couldn't write the typical jealous Ron with behaviour problems. I love that character to deat and I think he and Hermione have an amazing friendship, so that's the part of their relationship I'm keeping.   
> Thanks for reading, and please comment!
> 
> As if it wasn't already obvious, English is not my first language lol. I'm tryong to do my best, though.


End file.
